A Man approaches the motley group. His appearance is positively radiant. His polished mail gleams in the sun. Hell, even his pearly white teeth appear to reflect the sun's mighty rays. An Enigma of Thuul hangs prominently from his neck.

As he comes closer, the Man removes his helmet, revealing a friendly face and a head full of unruly blond locks. Yet he does not speak. He simply stands, listening to the conversation and occasionally nodding thoughtfully.

Alfwin sees the a group gathering and makes his way over, staff in hand, simple wooden Enigma of Thull around his neck. He smiles and speaks in common "what is the word friends, have the rumors of a goblin fortress gathered us here in the street?"

Wetzel finds himself jolted from a light cat nap by the sound of a larger number of folk than usual conversing in louder tones than usual nearer than usual to his temporary abode. He stays still, but opens his eyes and peers down to see what is going on.

Those who look up might see a very small Man, almost short enough to be taken for a tall Dwarf, though not quite. And he's certainly not built like that folk, so solid and close-to-the-ground as they are. This little Man is scrawny & tough. And he's perched amongst the tree's slender branches like an animal, a rodent or tree-dwelling mammal.

His dark eyes glint in interest and he listens for a while to the Men and Dwarves gathered below.

| The game is afoot! If you intend to hire any help, purchase additional supplies or pack mules, name an heir, notifying anyone of your intended date or return, or take care of any other pre-adventure business now, is the time to do so.

Recall that the hobgoblin fastness is reportedly a two or three day hike in the hills to the south-west. Thus, you can expect at least two wilderness exploration turns, and at least one night in the hills enroute. The scouts' motto applies: Be Prepared. |

coffee wrote:"But when they heard I was a smith, they shoved a hammer into my hand an pointed me at the forge! If I wanted to be a smith, I could have stayed at home. No opportunities for loot in smithing."

"A smith, eh? Nothing wrong with that, it gives you a nice strong arm, but lad if you want to fight, you've come to the right land for that!" Gunt says as he hands the almost empty bottle to the old woman.

"I've been dodging Gobo's, Snorks, Orcs, and worse for days. It ain't my way to sneak around those sort, but one little old Dwarf ain't no match for packs of the fracing devils." Gunt says, adding, "Now I've been known to do dumb things, and say things I oughtn't, but Gunter's momma didn't raise no dummy. So, I snuck around 'em and made it to this place."

Looking around, "Can't say I'm too impressed with this here, camp, but it'll do for now."

waysoftheearth wrote:| Recall that the hobgoblin fastness is reportedly a two or three day hike in the hills to the south-west. Thus, you can expect at least two wilderness exploration turns, and at least one night in the hills enroute. The scouts' motto applies: Be Prepared. |

"Say! Gunt speaks up to the group, "Any of you folks know where a strong armed Dwarf can earn a few silvers? I'm completely broke and my belt buckle is already rubbing on my backbone."

Gunter is completely skint! He'd love to buy a few days of food and a few skins of wine or beer (or water if he can't get the wine or beer), but unless he steals some coin, gets a short-term job, or finds a rich patron, he's going to have to do with a tighter and tighter belt...and licking leaves for dew.

Gerthrude downs the remaining wine in one long gulp and tosses the bottle aside. She squints at the gleaming, Enigma toting newcomer, partially blinded by the sheen of his armour (or perhaps its his teeth?).

"Ive heard the life story of half this mob without even asking; so whats yours shiny?"

Yet another Man approaches the group, and taps Alfwin on the shoulder. "Brother, I overheard you asking some of them other spearmen and sell-swords about this Goblin outpost that's been the talk of the Camp. Myself, I'm down to my last coin, I've called it quits from the Company I was in with, and I'm ready to throw in with any lusty lot endeavoring to loot some of what them Goblins a been pulling out of them mines.

"Mind you," he continues conspiratorially, "if indeed there be mines under that outpost, the Goblin's'll be the least of our problems. We'll want to be discrete.

"Name's Menno," he says, shouldering his crossbow and shaking the Brother's hand.